


If You Want Forever

by Oaklin



Series: Forever Everything [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: I'm not great at baby!Steen yet, Other, but I plan on getting a lot of practice :), the Mature rating is mostly for baby!Steen, you know why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:07:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7236628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oaklin/pseuds/Oaklin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>baby!Steen gets his first real introduction to the sunlight and deals with it about as well as you would expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Want Forever

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like a bit of back round is necessary, but I also feel the ride is worth a bit a mystery along the way. To be fair though, if you are confused I guess the ride won’t be much fun. 
> 
> Meh, anyway, tiny bit of back round; this takes place around march 2002 (sort of, just bear with me okay?) and there are some mild plot-holey inconsistencies with that time frame, but I have not written about these two nerds in a LONG time and when writing another piece I found my biggest weakness writing wise is baby!Steen and noodlylimbed!G- er, Sami. 
> 
> (a side note on that- my baby!Steen needs some work. He is CRAZY all over the place and I remember now why I always tried to write him POST-MATCH and avoided PRE-MATCH -anxious bundle of aggression and wild need- Steen like the unhinged lunatic he is. I don’t know how well I did in my edit, trying to make him coherent. Let me know please? I’m not made of glass I swear.)
> 
> To get meta for a moment, the reason its SAMI and not -well, you know- is because uh, you will see. Just trust me, yeah? Maybe? I won’t lie, these stupid oneshots will probably carry through their ROH stuff (fuck I don't want to write about that. But at the same time I do, you know? *dies a little inside*) on up to WWE so, yeah. Brace yourselves, non-consensual sadomasochism, bloody hand-licking, chair-shots and out-of-control possessive behavior is coming :(
> 
> So, this is a practice series that kinda got out of hand because, well, Kevin Steen basically. You know how he is.  
> My upload days will probably be weekends for the foreseeable future, so I hope no one minds that (even if you do it won’t matter but still, I know it sucks waiting for smut :)
> 
> Speaking of which, this is NOT smut. Yet. The next piece (it ended up being several -three so far- semi interconnected oneshots) is a little ...weird? In my defense, this is Kevin Steen not Kevin Owens (who, lets be honest, has his own slightly more WWE friendly version of uh ...aggressive affection? Sure, we’ll go with that), so yeah. It gets weird. But no sexy times as of yet. I’m seriously not sure how I would even approach sexy times with Kevin and Sami (at least as they are in this fic) ...again, you know why and if you don’t then you’ll probably get it by the end of this series. The mature rating is for mild swearing -seems mild to me, but I have really bad judgment on those types of things. My whole family swear like dockers- and for Kevin Steen, who warrants a mature label all by himself.
> 
> ALSO! This is not as of yet a redemption arch for Kevin! I dunno if I’m even going to cover that yet, the three oneshots so far are basically just me getting a feel for these tiny heartbreaking idiots again. Everything I’ve written so far takes place pre-Final Battle (you know the one) and I’m leaning toward MAYBE letting it grow into some kind of longer thing, but no guarantees. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

The light **burns** from the very beginning.

It is so unlike anything he has ever felt, hotter than the fiery pits of hell, brighter than the visions of grandeur in his mind. He is sure the first time they meet that it will burn him alive from the inside out, the illumination coming at him in waves to fill up all those dark corners of his mind.

The beast within struggles to free itself from it’s prison, to take the reigns and obliterate what threatens to snuff it out with nothing but an almost angelic light.

Kevin keeps his inner turmoil to himself as **he** sets his duffle bag down on the splintered bench. Kevin clenches his teeth, grinding them painfully together as the smell of cheap shampoo and nervous sweat wafts off a gangly frame.

**He** does not seem to notice that Kevin is not listening to the rambled greeting, which is fine because fuck if Kevin doesn’t need a moment to process ...whatever the hell keeps happening anytime they see each other.

Not that it only happened around **him**. It just... didn’t happen around anyone else (andthatdoesn’tmakeanyfuckingsense **whatthehellisgoingon** -)

Shit.

Kevin suppresses a frustrated growl before rolling his shoulders angrily and shifting, swinging one leg over the bench, resting his forearm on his thigh and splaying his other palm on the hard, splintered surface.

**He** stops mid action, holding his gear ( **form fitting tights** because of course goddamn it) and stares at Kevin, lips parted slightly making him look exactly like the ginger idiot he is. He lets his hands drop, the tights flopping to the bench as one hand rubs the back of a long neck, clearly uncomfortable with the stilted silence hanging over the room. Kevin watches as the other wrestler’s fingers tangle themselves in the short red curls where the skull meets the spine.

Kevin draws in a deep, sharp, steadying breath through his nose and tries not to **scream**.

Ignoring **his** bashful shyness - _he is **resplendent**_ -(no) Kevin scoots closer, almost shoving his duffle to the floor, eyes never leaving the boy- **man** - _mine_ -(NO) -resisting the urge to flee from his aura of sincere likability.

Some part of **him** (probably buried under layer after layer of **trusting naivety** because the slighter man is clearly that much of a dumb ass- standing far too close to Kevin not to be) recognizes tonights tag team partner as a predator. Hazel eyes wary, the other wrestler does not move away from Kevin - _oh this one is brave_ -(no he is not) just meets the stare questioningly, a slight, hesitant curl to his lips.

The darker parts of Kevin - _are there any other kind? maybe this **creature of light** will find them_ -(NO) perk up in interest. The idea of someone not being **afraid** is still relatively new, Kevin’s intensity usually a bit too much for people. However, here stands before him a being made of what appears to be **pure fucking sunligh** t, willingly entering a fraught stare down with a beast of the night, no fear on **his face** or in **his heart** that he clearly wears on his sleeve.

(Weak), Kevin decides even as the beast rumbles in excitement, acknowledging what may shape up to be a worthy opponent. Trying to shake it off (not this one) _-you do not get to choose **the one**_ -(no.) Kevin reaches out, swiping **his** tights with a forced air of casualness.

“I did not picture you as a spandex kinda guy. You sure you wanna walk out there looking like the scrawny ginger 12 year old you are?” he snarks, shaking the tights in **his** face and watching as he rears back a bit, surprise on his soft (weak) features.

Its **his** turn to surprise (something Kevin never actually gets used to but never fails to **excite** him in ways that should concern him more than they do) by leaning forward into Kevin’s space, even as his body clearly strains to get far away from **danger** ( **not safe not safe hunted,** the lanky frame practically screams) his eyes alight with an inner **warmth** that makes Kevin’s mouth dry.

“I’m eighteen and I happen to like those tights. They’re comfortable.” **he** says, leaning over the bench to rest his knees against Kevin’s thigh and grasping his duffle bag from where it teetered on the edge of the bench, pulling it to safety and rummaging around, “Also my name is Sami, since I know you didn’t hear me when I said it earlier.”

“I heard you the first time,” Kevin lies absently, rubbing the silken material of the tights between his fingers as he processes the feeling of his - _Sami_ \- bony knees digging into Kevin’s thigh.

He expects a **searing** sensation as the bare **skin** peaking out from the bottom of Sami’s khakis collides with the skin above Kevin’s kneepads. He expects **burning heat** to shoot up his leg, scald him alive from the inside out, his - _Sami_ \- light **obliterating** all that Kevin is.

Because surely a **monster** could never survive contact with what must be some kind of **celestial body** come to snuff out all that is evil in the world.

Kevin expects something dramatic to happen, some **release** or **climax** (let it end) to this anticipation because this cannot go on.

Kevin can’t be around this creature of his - _dreams, future, everything_ -(No) **nightmares**.

Kevin waits, but all that he feels is a faint **warmth**. Maybe he should have seen that coming, because everything else about **Sami** seemed so soft it figured he’d **burn** someone alive with a **tenderness** that seemed impossible to accomplish (his knees were knobby as shit jesus christ) while not even aware of the effect he was having on his tag partner for the night.

Closing his eyes in something akin to - _bliss_ -(NO), Kevin presses closer taking most of the other wrestlers weight (Sami goes willingly enough, still frowning into his bag) and basking in the combination of **his** - ** _Sami_** \- scent, gentle body heat and the feel of the thin layer of auburn peach fuzz pressing against his thigh.

(Fuck)

“I could swear I put...” Sami drops the duffle, running a hand through his hair - _wonder if its as **soft** and **warm** as the rest of him_ -(no) and gives Kevin an exasperated look, “You could at least have the decency to pretend to be nervous. I can’t be the only one of us mildly panicking?” its a question, but more directed inward, like Sami is trying to convince himself he needs to be calm-

(because Kevin is? Does **he** draw some kind of **strength** from **Kevin**? Does **he** need reassurance? Can Kevin even **do** that?!)

-as Sami occupies his twitching fingers with straightening his shirt collar.

“I am not surprised you are scared. You look like a stiff breeze would knock you over. Whose dick did you have to choke on to be here tonight anyway?” Kevin snaps, pushing the bag off his lap and waving a dismissive hand at the idiot in front of him. He tries to will his body to pull away from Sami but abandoning the slender mans body heat suddenly seems like the most arduous task Kevin has ever undertaken.

Fuck, they have to be tag partners and Kevin is suddenly not sure he can do this.

He grimaces as he realizes that they are both anxious now. Shit.

Bony knees pull away - _no, I need, **PLEASE**_ -(shutthefuckup) only to thump back into his thigh, “God, you are a jackass aren’t you? I was warned to be fair, so I guess I can’t complain too much.”

Kevin should definitely **pull away** now, maybe dump the moron on his ass in the process- it would serve him right for trusting a stranger - _would not be a stranger if you would **take**_ -(fuckyoushutup) to hold his weight.

Kevin perks up once Sami’s words register, momentarily distracted from whatever Sami has done to his brain, “Did someone actually warn you about how much of an asshole I happen to be?” he can not stop his chest puffing up with pride at the news-

-and is rewarded with the dumb son of a bitch **giggling** softly like that is something that **ANYONE** does. Fucking EVER, like they were in some shitty romantic comedy.

Kevin stares at Sami as a sudden lightheaded sensation fills him.

Along with the urge to **hit something** until he can **breath again**.

(Seriously, did someone spike his water bottle? Because he was going to find out who and make them regret being goddamn born.)

Sami shakes his head, still chuckling lightly as he contemplates something, “I guess that would be a compliment to you,” he gestures with one hand at Kevin’s form, “With the whole ‘scary guy’ thing you’ve got going on.”

Kevin blinks, snapping his head back and forth trying to shake off the residual **awe** hearing Sami laugh had caused - _ **make** him do it **again**_ -

**Fuck this**.

Reaching out, Kevin curls one hand around a skinny forearm and hauls himself to his feet. The lanky wrestler stumbles forward a bit and Kevin rolls his eyes, raising his hand to a warm chest and steadying him before shoving the tights at him and clapping him roughly on the back.

“Yes, I suppose it will make for interesting contrast between us? Just try not to drag me down and I won’t have to kick your ass,” Kevin smiles and he knows its not a nice smile, he can feel the way it curls across his face, probably more a snarl than a smile if he’s honest. But he can’t work up the resolve to be nice (or mean really) stuck as he seemed to be constantly struggling not to - ** _take_** -(no.) do something he’d regret.

Like **slam Sami’s head** through the lockers along the wall.

Just the thought fills him with a strange mix of repulsion and... not-repulsion. It sings through his system, planting itself in his brain and it makes the beast start rumbling again so Kevin curls his fist in the fabric of Sami’s shirt, much like the way his insides are tangling themselves into knots at the almost hypnotic feel of that **pale flesh** beneath **his fingers** only a thin layer of cotton between him and - _yes **take**_ \- (NO)

Sami again doesn’t seem fazed by his partners awkward silence and turns a hundred megawatt smile on Kevin reaching out to take his tights with one hand, resting the other on Kevins shoulder and squeezing in what he probably thought was reassurance (Kevin wasn’t sure if he **hated** Sami’s obliviousness or if it was saving his ass right now)

“Not a chance tag team buddy, lets tear the roof off ok?”

Kevin clenches his jaw briefly - _look at me look at me **look at me always**_ -(NO) and stamped down the rising **urge** to... he didn’t even fucking know anymore.

This was turning out to be both the best and worst day of his life and he wasn’t in control of anything and it was driving him nuts.

“If you call me ‘tag team buddy’ in front of anyone else I will super kick you into the sun,” he said, deliberately un-curling his fingers from Sami’s shirt - _no sink you fingers into him forever_ -(fuck off) before shoving him with probably more (not enough, fuck you) force than necessary and turning away, snatching a roll of tape up off the bench to give himself something to do.

Sami righted himself and though Kevin was not looking at him, he could feel the warm smile pointed in his direction, “I make no promises about keeping pet names behind closed doors. Besides, us tag teaming means I get touchy-feely privileges right?”

Kevin snorted, rolling an extra layer of tape around his wrist, “I dunno if you noticed but I don’t like to be touched,” (which okay, made no sense because he had just let Sami practically kneel on his lap but shut up) “Besides, you really don’t want to open that avenue up trust me. I don’t pull punches.”

Sami let out a long suffering sigh, like this was some argument they’d had a thousand times-

(to be fair it **definitely** felt that way... which did not make any goddamn sense why didn’t anythingmakeany **goddamnsense** -)

-and pulled his shirt over his head, “I know, I know, ‘scary guy’ shtick I’m very afraid of your wrestling prowess,”

Kevin rolled his eyes but kept them firmly on his very careful application of tape that he did not (definitely, **shut up** ) need as Sami stepped out of his khakis and began pulling his tights on.

A beat of silence and then-

“Thank you by the way, Kevin.”

Kevin turned before he thought, thanking whatever gods were watching (thought they clearly **despised** him) that Sami had gotten in to his skintight gear with astonishing speed and was already adjusting the waistband.

Focusing on Sami’s face, fingers smoothing his tape down carefully, Kevin cleared his throat before speaking.

“What?”

Sami continued to fiddle with the waistband of his tights, a slight smile on his lips, “For distracting me from my freak out earlier. I’m not quite used to,” he gestured vaguely to the room around them, indicating all that was their lives now, all they had ever **wanted** , “ -all this yet.”

Kevin opened his mouth ready to tell him off for getting all sentimental (don’t make this fucking **worse** ) but the words seemed to dry on his tongue, “Don’t get to used to it,” he grumbled instead, throwing the tape in his bag and heading for the door, rubbing a hand down his face and trying to pull himself together long enough to get this match done so they (no. He. ALONE.) could go back to...

No. Wait. Fuck.

Before either of them could say anything else, the door to the grungy little locker room burst open, the promoter of the event jamming his fat ass in the door way and swiveling his greasy haired, pimply faced head around until his eyes landed on them.

“Would you two get your shit together-” the promoter stopped, hand on the door frame as he observed the scene before him, looking around the room with a perplexed look on his dumb fucking face, “Have you guys been fighting or something? There’s some crazy tension going on in here.”

Kevin rolled his shoulders and snapped an arm out, grabbing Sami roughly and pulling him away from the bench before dragging him to the door, “No. We’re good. Lets do this,” he said, glancing at the noodly limbed dumb ass as he brushed past the asshole that had - ** _interrupted_** -(No.)

Sami turned that one hundred megawatt smile on him again and he felt his brain start stuttering even as he cursed his seeming inability to deal with his own goddamn tag partner.

He honestly hoped they could pull this off, half so he would not have to ever see Sami again and half because if they were good enough they might get to tag again.

Maybe even for a while-

- _ **forever**. Do this right and you get **FOREVER**_ -(no.)

He didn’t know which he wanted - _yes you do_ \- (NO)

* * *

 

Sami groaned, flopping down on the sparse grass with all the grace his gangly body possessed (which was none)

Kevin tossed a water bottle at him and leaned back against the car, crossing one ankle over the other and watching the plastic bottle hit Sami in the side of the head.

Ignoring the plaintive whine directed at him in response, Kevin took a long drink from his own bottle, looking out over the faintly twinkling city lights.

“Sorry.”

Kevin didn’t take his eyes off the horizon, “The fuck are you apologizing for?”

A soft cough reached Kevin’s ears, then the sound of a deep inhale, “We lost. I know you said not to drag you down and I honestly did not mean to but that guy got the jump on me and-”

Sami trailed off and Kevin tore his eyes away from the fading sunlight to look at the other wrestler.

Sami gazed up at him, a sincere, heartfelt apology in his hazel eyes.

“We lost because you were not paying attention.”

Kevin tosses his drink through the open car door into the backseat and uncrosses his ankles.

Sami rears back a bit but does not get up or otherwise move as Kevin walks forward.

Kevin stops, frayed jeans brushing Sami’s t-shirt clad shoulder, to stare down at the lanky wrestler, eyebrow raised at the panicked, shallow breaths Sami was taking.

“I-”

“Also, you have a really bad memory,” Kevin cuts across Sami’s stammered idiocy, “Because I said ‘try not to drag me down’. Know why I used that phrasing Sami boy?”

Sami looked up at him, the anxiety fading into puzzlement and shook his head.

Kevin watched Sami’s throat convulse through a few nervous swallows and his chest heave in a few more lung-fulls of air before smiling like he had been wanting to since they got into the car.

“Because I knew your dumb ass would find a way to cost us the match. Its okay though, we were bad ass despite your stupidity. Those assholes just got lucky is all.”

Kevin paused and let his words sink in, watching the puzzlement give way to relief, the look on the slighter mans face blooming into-

Jesus **fucking** christ.

... Sami was something else when he was really happy. Kevin was suddenly reminded of staring into the sun as a small child and wondered why his mother had never **warned** him that there were people in the world who’s smiles put the whole cosmos to shame.

Kevin shook his head slightly, turning away from Sami’s **radiance** and back to the car.

“Come on loser, we’ve got three more shows this week and you owe me a new shirt since you got blood on this one.”

Sami starts babbling about how he has spare shirts Kevin can wear.

(with Sami’s favorite god-awful ska band logos on them no doubt)

Kevin just lets him talk, not bothering to point out that there is no way Kevin’s fat ass could fit into Sami’s child sized shirts.

There is a brief fight over what radio station to leave on when they get on the road, but Kevin pulls driver authority and then wishes he’d saved it as Sami falls asleep just two miles later, making the whole argument moot.

Sami snuffles softly in his sleep, face smushed up against the passenger window. The lanky man shifts and then **sighs** out something that Kevin **fiercely** pretends he did not hear.

Staring hard at the road and griping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white he strains to stop himself reaching over and - _touching_ -

No.

He can do this. Its just a couple of shows. Then Sami would be in his rear view and he could stop feeling so out of control all the time. He just had to make it through **right now**. That is all that mattered.

Well, that and he was doing what he was **born** to do with - _Sami_ \- (doesn’t **matter** )

Fuck, whatever. After this they would go their separate ways and he would be able to go back to **destroying** everyone in his path.

That was his **forever** and he could live with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so thats a thing that I wrote. I dunno how I feel about these yet. Admittedly its sloppy as hell. I REALLY need to put some practice into baby!Steen. I think the last part was more coherent than the first bit right? So if I can refine the pre-match baby!Steen down a bit without losing that manic, devastating lunacy I’m golden. I think.
> 
> I think baby!Sami is okay though. Its kinda cute that he’s not all Stockholm Syndrome-ed up yet.
> 
> Oh and if anyone is confused about Kevin’s internal thoughts-desires-conscience, hyphened italics are his darker more instinctual thoughts (in general his first most natural reaction to something will be in hyphened italics) parenthesis are him “correcting” those thoughts when they threaten to make him face shit he doesn’t want to deal with and bolded words are basically one word mini freak-outs. And yes, I DID make some of the “(no)”’s different on purpose. 
> 
> One of my favorite things about Kevin (how complicated he is) is also what makes writing him so hard. Figuring out how to translate his layered personality into words is fucking rough.
> 
> Also, there MAY be a bit too much foreshadowing in this. I haven’t decide yet. Thoughts?


End file.
